Daddy's Home
by Rachel D
Summary: Sam finally comes home from his final leap to a big surprise, but all the leaping has also caused him some problems. COMPLETED!
1. Chapter 1

_**DADDY'S HOME**_

A/N: I was inspired to write this after watching the three-part Season 5 episode.

 **CHAPTER 1**

Dr. Sam Beckett felt the familiar blue light envelop him again after he'd completed his mission in the recent leap, which involved him being a toddler and saving his host's older brother from getting killed by a school bus. _I wonder where I'm going this time, or if I'll ever get home,_ he thought. He was tired of it.

All of it.

Tired of finding himself in other moments in time, not to mention the bodies of other people besides his own, tired of always being up shit's creek without a paddle, and tired of always having to right the wrongs of other people.

Righting the wrongs. That's what he did, all right.

 _"I right the wrongs that make the whole world sing..."_

Oh, Jesus, that song was stuck in his head again. He was never crazy about the music of Barry Manilow to begin with, but he especially hated that particular song, mostly because it was one that one of his fellow scientists, Dr. Verbeena Beeks, was singing when he prematurely stepped into the accelerator and made his first leap. And she thought it'd be funny if she changed the words around a little.

 _"I write the songs that irritate Sam Beckett..."_ Sam softly sang to himself as the light intensified, irritate being the operative word. When—or if—he got home, he was going to give Dr. Beeks a piece of his mind for singing that song. In retrospect, she was probably glad that she wasn't the one who'd be getting herself in all those crazy situations.

He was tired, both physically and mentally. Why the hell wouldn't they just let him go home already?

The next thing Sam knew, he was standing in a hallway, and right in front of him was a door to a nearby bathroom. As he stumbled in and leaned against the wall to catch his breath, he looked down at his hands. That was always the first thing he did whenever he arrived at any time and place. As always, the hands were his own, but they looked much older. _What the hell?_ Sam thought in surprise and alarm. _When did this happen? How long have I been doing this shit?_

Then a mirror on the opposite wall caught his eye. This was always the one part ab-out leaping he always dreaded. Each time he looked into it, he never saw his own image. If he wasn't the understudy for the lead in a touring production of _Man of La Mancha_ (he played the CD over and over while building the Imaging Chamber), he was his great-grandfather in the midst of the Civil War, an inmate on death row awaiting execution—which is why he would later feel a twinge of sympathy for the few inmates whose executions he would later assist on—a chimp, or God knows what else. One leap in particular he wished he could forget was when he was Dr. Ruth Westheimer. It was bad enough that Ziggy was cruel enough to make him a little old lady who talked about things that would make a porn star blush, but he also had to protect this poor legal secretary from her sadistic pervert of a boss. Talk about work hazards!

The only upside was that he never went to a moment in history that was outside neither his time or genetic line—other than when he and Al traded places, and Sam had to save him. If, God forbid, that was how Project Quantum Leap worked, it would've been just his luck that he would've found himself in the body of a prisoner during the Spanish Inquisition—specifically that of _Don Quixote_ author, Miguel de Cervantes, whose story _Man of La Mancha_ is based on.

 _All right, Ziggy, let's get this over with,_ Sam thought as he approached the mirror, his eyes squeezing shut in dread. _Who am I this time, and what's my mission?_

When Sam opened his eyes, he found his own reflection staring back at him. About two or three decades older, mind you, but there's no mistaking what he saw. He had on a white dress shirt and tan slacks with brown socks and loafers.

"Oh, boy!" he exclaimed. "Oh, boy-oh-boy, I made it! JESUS H. TAP-DANCIN' CHRIST, I MADE IT! I'M FINALLY HOME!"

Yes, he was definitely home. He was so overjoyed that he started jumping around like a baboon, cheering, screaming, and hollering up a storm. Sure, he looked silly doing that, and if anyone else was in that bathroom, they would've thought he was an escaped mental patient, but who gave a rat's ass? He was home.

He was finally, _finally_ home.

As soon as Sam pulled himself together, he very quickly splashed some cold water on his face in an attempt to wake himself up, then ran out into the hall, almost colliding with Dr. Beeks. "Welcome back, Dr. Beckett," she said when she saw him.

"Oh, boy," Sam said to himself, for what seemed like the millionth time. On that note, a hundred bucks says that'll be on his gravestone.

"Are you okay?"

"I—I think so. Am I really home?"

Dr. Beeks burst out laughing. "Yes, Doctor," she answered. "This last leap brought you home, just like Sammy Jo hoped it would."

"Where is she now?" Sam asked.

"In the control room," Dr. Beeks answered.

"Have her meet me in the Waiting Room," Sam said, forgetting about telling her off for dragging him into this mess in the first place. "I need to talk to her right away."

"No problem." With that, Dr. Beeks headed to the control room to get Sammy Jo as Sam headed to the waiting room. On the way, the following conversation played through his mind:

 _"Does she know I'm her father?"_

 _"No. And Ziggy says that after this leap, you won't know, either."_

 _"Oh, I'll know, Al. I'll always know."_

The conversation with Al following the end of his mission in the life of Abigail Fuller, Sammy Jo's mother, played over and over in his mind. Already, he could picture her reaction to finding out that he was her father.

Upon arriving in the Waiting Room, Sam sat on the edge of the table, where each leapee had sat while Sam was living their lives and completing his mission. There was so much he wanted to tell Sammy Jo: the leaping, how it worked, and some of the experiences he'd had. And there was so much he wanted to know about his daughter: what she was like, how old she was, what she was doing with her life, you name it.

And that's when it finally hit him: he was going to see Sammy Jo. Not in the past, and not while he was on yet another potentially dangerous mission. No, he was actually going to see his daughter. His own flesh and blood.

A few minutes later, while Sam was looking down at his hands and softly humming "The Impossible Dream" and "Almost Like Being In Love" from _Brigadoon—_ another of his favorite shows—the door quietly opened and a pretty middle-aged brunette walked in. She had blue eyes and purple rimless glasses, and was wearing a pale pink polo shirt and matching Chuck Taylor high-tops, tan capris, a white button-down sweater with a matching headband, and silver earrings. "Dr. Beckett?" she asked in a fairly thick New Orleans accent. "You wanted to see me?"

Sam hopped off the table and turned to face the woman. "Yes," he said. "Have a seat."

Sammy Jo sat on the table while Sam leaned against it. "Yes?" she asked.

"Have you ever heard of the string theory?" Sam asked.

Sammy Jo looked at him for a moment, then shook her head. "What is it?" she asked.

"Here," Sam said, pulling a long piece of string out of his pocket. "Imagine that this piece of string is a person's lifetime. One end equals birth, and the other is death. You tie the string together..." As he spoke, he did just that "...and it creates a loop. If you ball the loop, all the days of your life touch each other, and you can go from point A to point B in your lifetime."

"How does the leap work?" Sammy Jo asked.

"Well, in my case, I found myself being surrounded by a blue haze, and the next thing I knew, I was out of one body and into another, but I'd never know who, until I looked in the mirror."

Sammy Jo nodded. "Oh- _kayyy,"_ she said. There was no mistaking the skepticism in her voice.

"That's what I've been doing all these years," Sam explained as he started pacing. "I like to think of myself as a time-traveling Lone Ranger with Admiral Calavicci as my Tonto. My mission this whole time has been to set things right that once went wrong, like the three occasions on which I saved your mother's life."

Now Sammy Jo was really confused. "You want to run that by me again?" she asked as Sam stopped pacing.

"On my first leap, which was when your mother was about ten years old, I leaped into her father—Clayton Fuller, your grandfather—to keep her from getting killed in a house fire."

"The one she said my grandfather was killed in?"

"That's right. I didn't see her again until eleven years later. That was when I leaped into a young man that she was engaged to—on the night before they were to be married—the man you always belived was your real father, to protect her from a lynch mob when a little boy she was baby-sitting disappeared, and was later found at a local mill. And do you remember a man who introduced himself as Sam Larry Stanton?"

"Very vaguely. Larry Stanton III was Mom's defense attorney when she was charged with murder, if I'm not mistaken."

"That's right," Sam repeated. "Anyway, that was the third person I leaped into to help your mother when you were eleven, and she was accused of murdering the woman who had accused her of a double homicide when she was a little girl."

Sammy Jo thought for a minute. "I think I remember," she said. "I was hiding in the kitchen, and I watched this woman, Mrs. Aider, destroy it before cutting her throat with Mom's kitchen knife. She was trying to frame Mom for murder again, if both hers and Mom's fingerprints were on the knife. I was afraid to go into the kitchen for the longest time after that. The way I heard it, Mom and this other woman's daughter were fighting over a locket. When Grandmama tried to talk to the other girl, she fell down the well and left my grandmother holding her locket, which she kept for the rest of her life, and her bones were down there for about twenty-five years before a restoration crew found her. That didn't come to light until the attorney went to the asylum where my grandmother had lived ever since, because folks believed she was crazy for watching her mother murder her siblings, which turned out not to be true. The part about her being crazy, that is, and she died there about twenty years ago."

"Exactly," Sam agreed, trying to hide his relief that Sammy Jo didn't think he was some nut job. "Anyway, your mother told me—well, Mr. Stanton—that your grandfather didn't want her to have the locket in the first place, but she still wanted it, so your grandmother was trying to help her save money to buy it, but the other little girl bought it out of spite, which made your mother mad enough to beat her up. And the lady put a curse on your mother, saying that she was crazy, which was another reason why she was committed, and any children she had—including you—would be cursed."

"But I'm not crazy!" Sammy Jo protested. Judging from her tone of voice, Sam could tell that she'd dealt with being labeled as such for most of her life.

"I know, I know," Sam quickly reassured her. "Anyway, when your mother was acquitted of the murder, thanks to your testimony, the curse was broken."

"What the hell does this have to do with me?"

"You may not know this, but—I'm your father."

Dead silence.

For the next couple of minutes or so, Sammy Jo just stared at him, and the look on her face was a combination of shock, disbelief, and the universal look that clearly said, _Okay, what mental hospital did you just escape from?_

"No," she finally managed to say. "No, that's not possible. I never knew my real father, but I've heard a lot of stories. His name was Will Kinman, and the last I'd heard, he'd moved out West to write a book."

"That's right, he did. You see, during my second leap into your mother's life, when I was her fiancé, we had a romantic night..."

"You can skip the details," she cut him off with a raise of her hand.

"Sorry. Okay. Well, how about you?"

"Well, like I said, I never knew my real father. Mom remarried when I was thirteen, and we moved to Chicago from Pottersville, Louisiana, which is just south of Shreveport. I graduated from high school about three years later, then went to MIT..."

"As did I."

"Right. I graduated with degrees in theoretical physics, medicine—specifically, anesthesiology, and astronomy," Sammy Jo continued. "I got engaged and married within the first year after I graduated from college, and we had two daughters and a son, all in their teens now. And believe me, whoever said raising teenagers is a full-time job sure knew what they were talking about."

"What about your husband?"

"We're divorced," Sammy Jo explained. "I won't bore you with the details, but he wasn't exactly the nicest guy in the world, and our parting was anything but amicable. Anyway, shortly after that, I brought my kids from Chicago to New Mexico, and got the job with Project Quantum Leap. My cousin took us in until we found a place. And he's told me on several occasions how much my kids are like me with their high IQ's and all. In fact, my oldest just got her acceptance letter from USC. She'll be going in the fall, and her major is astrogeophysics."

"Wow," was all Sam could say.

"Anything else I should know?"

"Well, let me tell you about some of the interesting leaps I've had over the years," Sam said. "I helped some celebrities, too. In fact, I helped Buddy Holly write the lyrics to 'Peggy Sue'."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. When I first met him, he was a vet's assistant, as well as an aspiring musician, and he'd sometimes pick up his guitar and sing songs at random about farm life."

"Anyone else?"

"Well, let's see...I gave a young Stephen King the ideas for _Cujo, Christine,_ and _Carrie,"_ Sam continued. "I've been Elvis, Dr. Ruth Westheimer, and Lee Harvey Oswald. And like I said, I've met your mother on a few occasions. I've even met some very famous people on some of my leaps. Once, I was an Olympic swimmer from Israel at the 1972 Summer Games, and that's when I met Mark Spitz."

Now it was Sammy Jo's turn to say wow.

"And in addition to those leaps, I leaped into one of Donna's old college professors and helped her repair her relationship with her estranged father, not only before he left for Vietnam, but also to keep her from leaving me at the altar."

Sammy Jo nodded. This was turning out to be quite an interesting conversation. And all the while, she was having the strangest feeling, as if something she'd secretly wished for all her life was finally coming true.


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2**

After Sam finished speaking, Sammy Jo was silent for a moment, then she said, "You know, I've always wanted to travel back in time and tell my father I loved him."

"Well, n—now's your chance," Sam stammered, then stopped. What was going on? He'd never had any speech difficulties of any kind, other than when he'd leaped into Will Kinman. In fact, he'd been told that from an early age, he was a very fluent and articulate talker. Hell, his own mother had once told him that his first word was "archaeopteryx"!

 _Oh, my God, what's happening to me?_ Sam thought. _It's not residual from Will Kinman, is it? Then again, I've had similar experiences, not only experiencing residual from the person I'd leaped into, but also the time I was a mental patient, and the electroshock brought out personalities from previous leaps._

"You okay?" Sammy Jo asked.

"What? Oh, yeah, I—I think so," Sam answered. "You see, I've had something like this happen before, a little res—residual from the person I'd leaped in-into. In this case, it, uh—it was the man you always believed was—uh, yeah, your father."

Sammy Jo nodded. "Anything else I should know?" she asked, obviously making a feeble attempt to hide her concern.

"Well," Sam continued, "I had this one leap where I was a mental patient under—undergoing electroshock treatment, and—well, after it happened, I had several person—personalities from those previous leaps come out, like, uh—like a boxer, a black man, and...and—oh, shit."

"What is it?" Sammy Jo asked. There was no mistaking the anxiety in her voice.

Sam put his hand on his head and started stumbling around the room. "I f—feel some—something happening," he managed to say as he barely missed bumping into the table.

"What?" Sammy Jo repeated as she hopped off the table and attempted to guide Sam back in that direction.

Before Sam could answer, he slipped from Sammy Jo's grasp and fell to the floor. Sammy Jo took her flashlight out of her pocket and set it on the table before trying in a feeble attempt to catch Sam as he fell.

"Oh, my God, Sam!" Sammy Jo screamed as Sam's eyes rolled back, his body stiffened, his arms flew up against his chest, bent at the elbows with fists clenched, and shaking violently up and down, which was almost immediately followed by the rest of his body, muttering unintelligibly, and gasping for breath. Sammy Jo yanked off her sweater, put it under Sam's head, then ran to the door and flung it open, shouting, "CAN I GET SOME HELP IN HERE!"

In a flash, Al and Dr. Beeks appeared in the doorway. "What happened?" Al asked in alarm as the two of them hurried over to Sam.

"I don't know. We were just talking, then he fell to the floor and started seizing," Sammy Jo answered, as calmly as she could muster without falling apart, as she started to unbutton Sam's shirt halfway down while he was moving—which, to her, was not all that easy to do.

"How long has he been seizing?" Dr. Beeks asked as she and Al knelt beside Sam.

"He just started," Sammy Jo answered, checking her watch and fighting the panic that was coming. Then, to Sam, she said, "It's okay, Dr. Beckett. You're just having a seizure, but you'll be okay soon."

"Dammit. All that leaping around must have turned his brain into Swiss cheese," Dr. Beeks groaned. Then, as she tilted Sam's chin back to assist his breathing, she continued, "Sammy Jo, the drug box is in the cabinet back there."

"I'm on it," Sammy Jo answered, getting up and doing as she was told. As she did, she spotted an ambu bag, which she also grabbed.

"Okay, Admiral, let's roll him," Dr. Beeks ordered as she crossed Sam's arms across his chest, and gently cradled his head as the two of them rolled Sam onto his side, and Sammy Jo brought the drug box and ambu bag over. Dr. Beeks opened the drug box and got out the drugs she needed. Sammy Jo put the bag over Sam's face and started squeezing as Dr. Beeks prepared the injection. "Okay, Ativan's on board," Verbeena said as she gave the injection. "Now, we wait."

In less than a minute, Sam stopped shaking and seemed to fall asleep as Sammy Jo squeezed the bag for another minute before she set it aside, put her ear to Sam's mouth to check his breathing, then picked up his wrist to feel for a pulse. Next, she got out her flashlight and checked his mouth to see if he'd bitten his tongue or cheek—neither of which happened, miraculously.

"Okay," Al said as he put his hands under Sam's arms and started to lift him. "Sammy Jo, help me move him to the table." The two of them moved the still-sleeping Sam onto the table and Dr. Beeks got a pillow as Sammy Jo put her sweater back on.

"How long will he be out?" Sammy Jo asked as she examined Sam's eyes and put her flashlight in her pocket.

"It's hard to say," Al answered grimly as he laid a hand on Sam's shoulder. "Seizures can be very unpredictable. It could be a few minutes before he comes around, maybe longer. He might even have another seizure, maybe more."

"No," Sammy Jo moaned. Just the thought of having to relive the most frightening ordeal of her life over and over again was more than she could bear. She also remembered her college roommate from MIT had told her that she was epileptic, but somehow, had never had a seizure at school.

"Now, don't worry, _miele,"_ Al said reassuringly as he put an arm around her. "There are plenty of round-the-clock medical personnel on duty. If he should happen to have another seizure, we'll alert someone, and they'll know what to do."

"Thank you, Admiral."

"As soon as he wakes up, I'm ordering some tests," Dr. Beeks said. "In the meantime, I'll have to tell Dr. Benitez. Call me when he starts coming around."

"I will," Sammy Jo answered as she took Sam's hand.

"And I'll also be outside, if you need me," Al said before he left.

"Admiral, could you also get your wife and my stepmom?" Sammy Jo asked.

"Of course," Al answered.

A few minutes later, Beth and Donna appeared in the doorway. When Donna saw Sam lying on the bed, she put a hand over her mouth. Beth put an arm around her and asked as the two women approached the bed, "What happened?"

"Sam?!" Donna exclaimed.

"Dr. Beckett just had a grand mal seizure," Sammy Jo answered. Donna leaned over and kissed Sam's forehead before taking his other hand. "He should be coming around any minute now. Sam—Dr. Beckett? If you can hear me, squeeze my hand."

In response, Sam squeezed Donna's hand. "He seems a little disoriented," she said as she brushed Sam's hair off his forehead. "And that's to be expected, but he'll eventually come around."

"Beth, get Dr. Beeks back in here," Sammy Jo said. "She said something about running some tests once Sam was awake." Beth nodded and left the room.

A million thoughts went through Sammy Jo's mind as she held Sam's hand, occasionally squeezing it, and patting or rubbing his shoulder as she waited for him to awaken. What would happen to him? Would they still be able to have that father-daughter relat-ionship she always wanted?

As she stayed by Sam's side and waited to see what would happen next, she started to get that nagging feeling that as time went on, there'd be a hell of a lot more questions than answers.

A few minutes later, Dr. Benitez came in. He was a young man about twelve years younger than Sammy Jo, a head taller than her, a little heavyset, and had short dark curly hair and glasses. "What happened?" he asked as he got out his penlight.

"Dr. Beckett just had a grand mal seizure," Sammy Jo answered as she squeezed Sam's hand again. This time, it was answered by a squeeze as Sam's eyes fluttered.

"Dr. Beckett? Open your eyes, Dr. Beckett," Dr. Benitez said as he turned on his penlight and shone it in Sam's eyes. When he finished, he said, "Let's get him to the lab."

A minute later, two nurses came in, moved Sam onto the gurney, and took him to the lab. As they moved they gurney into place, Sam's eyes slowly opened.

"Dr. Beckett, look at the light," Dr. Benitez said gently as he held the penlight in front of Sam's eye. "And follow it with your eyes." Sam did just that as Sammy Jo rubbed his arm. Then Dr. Benitez put his light away and said, "Now, follow my finger. Okay, that's good."

"It's okay, Dad," Sammy Jo managed to say as she gently patted his shoulder. And you know what? Whoever invented the saying "a picture's worth a thousand words" should've seen the look on his face when she called him that.

"Okay, now squeeze both my hands twice," Dr. Benitez continued. "Very good grip strength. Dr. Beckett, do you know where you are?"

"The lab," Sam answered.

"What time is it?"

"Three—3:30?"

"Close enough. Good tracking skills, somewhat oriented to time, responds to commands, and aware of his surroundings," the doctor noted to the nurse. Then, to Sam, he asked, "What's my name?"

"Dr. Benitez," Sam answered.

"What's yours?"

"Dr. Sam Beckett."

"And who's that?" Dr. Benitez asked, gesturing toward Sammy Jo.

"Sammy Jo."

"Very good," Dr. Benitez said as he checked Sam's blood pressure. Then, to the nurse, he added, "Oriented to people."

"What happened?" Sam asked as he tried to sit up, which made Sammy Jo grab his shoulders and shake her head as she gently helped him lie back down.

"You had a seizure," Dr. Benitez answered as he finished his examination. "You may be a little out of it for a few more hours, and you're a little hypertensive, but other than that, your vitals check out."

"Dr. Beeks thinks all the leaping around he's done over the years caused it," Sammy Jo interrupted. She was still very clearly distressed by what just happened.

"Now, hold on, Dr. Pollan," Dr. Benitez said. "We don't know that yet. After all, this last leap was very hard on him, according to what he, Admiral Calavicci, and Ziggy have told us. Right now, the best thing we can do is keep an eye on him and watch for any more warning signs."

 _You call falling to the ground and seizing so hard you almost break your goddamn spine in half a warning sign?_ Sammy Jo thought incredulously, but instead of chewing the doctor out for downplaying something so terrifying, she just nodded.

"I'm ordering a head CT, MRI, and an EEG. And I'll send Dr. Rice in to perform an EKG," Dr. Benitez said as he patted Sam's shoulder. "I'll be back as soon as possible for the tests."

Upon hearing that, Sam rolled onto his side, clutched his chest, and started shaking and hyperventilating. "Dad?" Sammy Jo asked as she reached over and stroked his hair. "Dad, what's wrong?"

"I—I'm claustrophobic," Sam explained between gasps as he rolled onto his back and Sammy Jo took his hand. "I've had some leaps where I found myself in a closed-in space, which I didn't like."

"Shh, it's okay," Sammy Jo said as she raised the head of the bed, handed Sam a paper bag, and started rubbing his back. "Just breathe into the bag."

Dr. Benitez put his stethoscope on and put it on Sam's chest. "His heart rate's accelerating," he reported as he finished. "I'm paging Dr. Rice now."

A few minutes later, Dr. Rice came in while Sam was hyperventilating and clutching his chest, Dr. Benitez was holding the paper bag in front of him and urging him to breathe, and Sammy Jo was holding his hand, rubbing his shoulder, and talking to him in a low, soothing voice, in a futile attempt to calm him down. Dr. Rice was a black woman about Sammy Jo's height and looked about five years older. "What is it?" the doctor asked.

"Dr. Beckett just had a grand mal seizure, and I want to run some tests," Dr. Benitez answered as Sammy Jo took over with the paper bag. "I want to do an MRI, and he just freaked out at the mention of it. I think he's having either a heart attack or a panic attack."

"Mm-hm, I see," Dr. Rice said as she put on her stethoscope. After finishing her exam, she left the room and returned a few minutes later with the EKG machine. She put the leads on Sam's chest and attached wires to them. "Is he claustrophobic?"

"He said he was," Sammy Jo answered as she took Sam's hand. "I'm right here. It's okay, Dad."

"I have an idea," Dr. Rice said as she wrapped a blood pressure cuff around Sam's arm.

"What?"

"My father was a hypnotherapist," Dr. Rice said as she pushed the button on the machine to inflate the cuff. "Before he retired, he turned his practice over to my oldest sister, and he also taught me and my sisters a few things, so I'm licensed in hypnotherapy. After he retired, my parents moved to Miami, where they lived until Mom died last year. He now lives in a nursing home about twenty minutes from here, and my sisters live in Pittsburgh."

"Hypnosis?" Sammy Jo asked.

"Well, it would be illegal without his consent, and also if a kid wanted to hypnotize bullies into being nice to them, but it probably wouldn't hurt your father."

"Might work," Al said. The two women turned to see him enter the room. "In addition to leaping into Dr. Rice's father over Labor Day weekend in '76, he used hypnosis on a woman named Alia, an evil leaper, whose mission was to undo the good Sam did, when they leaped into a women's prison. Their mission was to find out who killed a fellow inmate, and Sam used hypnosis on Alia in an attempt to hide her location from her people. Unfortunately, it wasn't too long before Alia was discovered, and when she leaped, she disappeared off the map completely."

"And no one ever found out your father did that?" Sammy Jo asked as a nurse came in, drew the curtain shut in front of Al, and helped Sam change into a hospital gown, then reopened the curtain.

Dr. Rice shook her head. "Now, if my sister had said no, and he went ahead and did it anyway, his license would've been pulled, but she agreed to it. After she named the shooter—who turned out to be her friend's boyfriend—and he was arrested, he named his cousin as the shooter, and his cousin spent almost four years in jail before he was executed. In the meantime, Dad took us to our family's cabin for the weekend."

"That's good."

"Here's what we'll do," Dr. Rice said, changing the subject. "One of us will do the talking, and the other will monitor his vitals."

"Okay," Sammy Jo agreed as she picked up Sam's wrist to check his pulse.

"Dr. Beckett?" Dr. Rice said, touching his arm, as Sammy Jo finished. Sam turned his head in her direction. "May I use hypnosis on you?"

Sam nodded and put his hand on his chest. "It's okay, Dad," Sammy Jo whispered as she touched his hand and glanced at the monitor. "Dr. Rice knows what she's doing, and you can trust her."

"Okay, just close your eyes now, Dr. Beckett," Dr. Rice instructed, her voice taking on a soft, soothing tone. Sam did just that. "Now, just take a deep breath and let it out real slow...Good. Now, I'm going to count backwards from ten, and with each count, you will become more and more realaxed, okay?"

"Mm-hm," Sam answered as he free hand fell to his side.

"Ten...nine...eight...becoming more and more relaxed...seven...six...going deeper and deeper...five...four...three...two...all the way down...one...zero. Very good."

Sam let out a sigh as Dr. Rice finished counting.

"How's his pressure?" Dr. Rice asked.

"BP and heart rate are steady," Sammy Jo reported.

"Good," Dr. Rice said. Then, resuming that soft, soothing voice, she continued, "Okay, Dr. Beckett, I want you to imagine a peaceful scene from one of your leaps, whether it be on a beach or a mountain. There are a few important things I want you to remember during your procedure, though. The most important things are that Sammy Jo will be right there, and she will be giving you medicine to keep you sedated, but should you happen to fall asleep, that's okay; the machine will make a lot of noise, but it won't bother you, because you'll be wearing earplugs; and the most important ting of all is that there's a mirror attached to the coil that will be over your face during the procedure, so you can see whoever is in the room with you."

Sam nodded.

"Do you feel any better about it now?"

Sam sighed and nodded again.

"Okay," Dr. Rice said. "I'm going to count to three, and with each count, you will become more and more awake, and will remember everything I told you." Sam nodded. "One...two...three...wide awake."

With that, Sam opened his eyes. "Feeling better?" Sammy Jo asked, stroking his hair and checking his blood pressure before removing the cuff from his arm.

"I think so," Sam answered.

A few minutes later, as Dr. Benitez returned, Dr. Rice removed the EKG leads and put on her stethoscope. "I think he's ready," Sammy Jo said as Dr. Rice finished. "I need to get changed, and I'll meet you in the prep area after your CT scan, okay?"

"Okay," Sam agreed as two nurses came to take him for the CT scan.

After the CT scan, the nurses wheeled him into the prep area. As promised, Sammy Jo was there, dressed in dark blue scrubs and a mask. After she and the nurses moved the gurney into place, she looked down at Sam, rested her hand on his shoulder, and asked, "Ready?"

As Sammy Jo prepared the injection, the nurse cleaned the back of his hand and started an IV before checking his vital signs while he just turned his head from one side to the other. "You doing okay?" Sammy Jo asked as the nurse finished and switched sides with her.

Sam nodded. "Let's get this over with," he said.

"Okay," Sammy Jo said as she picked up Sam's arm and inserted the needle into the cannula. All the while, Sam was making a weird noise that sounded like a cross between hyperventilating and holding his breath. "You will be in a twilight state, which means you will be sleepy—which will eventually come—but still able to respond to commands. You may also not remember the scan or the time in the recovery room before the EEG."

While Sammy Jo was speaking, a nurse on the other side was rubbing Sam's arm and patting his shoulder. "Take it easy now, it's almost over. You're doing just fine, Dr. Beckett."

"You doing okay?" Sammy Jo asked as she removed the needle.

Sam nodded as he closed his eyes and the nurses took him for the MRI. Sammy Jo stood beside the table and held his hand, occasionally administering a tiny amount of sedative, and talking to him in a calm, reassuring voice.

After the MRI was over, Sam was taken to the recovery room so he could rest up for a little while before the EEG. When he was a little more awake, Sammy Jo asked, "How are you feeling?"

"A little better," Sam answered. "You know, that wasn't quite as bad as I thought it'd be, thanks to you and Dr. Rice."

"What'd I tell you, huh?" Sammy Jo asked as she lightly punched his shoulder and the nurse offered him some ice chips. "Didn't I tell you it'd be all right?"

"You sure did," Sam agreed as the nurse prepared to draw some blood. She had chin-length dark hair and looked slightly older than Dr. Benitez. "I'll bet you felt like you were helping one of your kids calm down when I started freaking out, huh?"

"I hate to interrupt your conversation," the nurse said as she wrapped the tourniquet around Sam's upper left arm and prepared to inspect and clean it, "but do you remember me, Dr. Beckett?"

"Should I?" Sam asked.

"My name's Teresa Bruckner," the nurse said. "I vaguely recall meeting two guys named Sam and Al when I was about five years old."

"Really?" Sam asked. "I did leap into a woman whose last name was Bruckner, and my mission was to keep her son from disappearing and getting mmurdered, because his body would've never been found."

"That's right," Teresa smiled as she opened an antiseptic wipe and started to clean Sam's arm. "My mother was Linda Bruckner, and she's a retired real-estate agent. I have an older brother and sister, Kevin and Susan. Kevin's now a truck driver, and when he's not on the road, he lives in Amarillo, Texas, and Susan followed in our mother's footsteps and became a real-estate agent in Scottsdale."

"That's nice," Sam said. "And you're a nurse?"

Teresa nodded as she pressed two fingers against what she thought was a good spot above Sam's elbow. "And get this: when you leaped in, I was the only one who could tell the difference."

"Al told me that small children and animals could," Sam said. "I've had that experience plenty of times in all my years of leaping."

"I see," Teresa said as she poked Sam's arm with the needle and fitted the vial into it. Sam gritted his teeth, and Sammy Jo gently rubbed his arm.

"Anyway, to get back to our conversation," Sammy Jo said as she took his hand. "Yes, I did feel like I was helping one of my kids calm down when you started freaking out, Dad. How could you tell?"

"I've had situations like that in some of my leaps," Sam answered as the nurse removed the tourniquet and switched out the vials. "In one, I was an intern at a Toledo hospital in the early '60s, and my mission was to not only make a sex-starved nurse realize I wasn't the one for her, but I also had to help a six-year-old boy overcome his fear of needles, so getting a shot or drawing blood would be a breeze. And the last I heard from Al, he's now a doctor."

"Wow, really?" Sammy Jo asked. Sam nodded.

"All done here," Teresa said as she put a Band-Aid over the spot on Sam's arm. "I'll see you in a few minutes when you go for the EEG, okay?"

"Okay," Sam agreed as the nurse left, taking the vials with her.

"And the other time was when I leaped into your mother's defense attorney at her trial when you were eleven, and you were scared about her going to jail," Sam continued.

Sammy Jo nodded. "I remember that," she said. "I also remember that he'd had some heart problems and had to stop a couple of times to take nitro pills. During the trial, I was crouched up in the balcony, like Scout in _To Kill A Mockingbird."_

"That's right," Sam said as he struggled to sit up. Sammy Jo raised the head of the bed for him. "Anyway, you never suspected that I was your father?"

Sammy Jo shook her head. "How did you know?" she asked.

"Al told me."

"Wow," Sammy Jo said, for what seemed like the millionth time, as a nurse came in, checked Sam's vital signs, put a couple of electrodes on his chest, and left.

The EEG came next, and it was almost like the MRI. There were some diffferences, though. One, it was a test to see if a seizure could be induced. And two, it didn't involve a closed-in space, even though Sam's heart rate was monitored. After it was all over, Sam was taken back to the recovery room. _Please let this be the last test,_ he thought. _Please, God, don't let this be what I think it is._


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER 3**

Sammy Jo was sitting by Sam's bedside with her arms folded on the bed and her head on her arms, asleep. She felt a movement from the sleeping figure on the bed, raised her head, and put on her glasses, which she'd been holding. "Dad?"

Upon hearing Sammy Jo's voice, Sam stirred a little, then opened his eyes and turn-ed his head to look at her. "Hi," he grinned. "Sleep well?"

"On and off," she answered as she brushed his hair off his forehead and reached for his hand. "How are you feeling?"

"I've been better," Sam yawned before he went into a violent coughing fit. Sammy Jo got the cup of water from the tray and held it while he took a sip. "Thanks. What time is it?"

Sammy Jo looked at the clock on the opposite wall as she set the cup back on the tray. "Almost midnight," she answered. "You gave me quite a scare."

"Which was worse, the seizure or the panic attack?"

"I really couldn't tell you."

"I'm sorry."

Sammy Jo smiled and patted his shoulder as a nurse came in, hooked some wires to the EKG leads, and left. "It's okay. I'm used to this sort of thing in my line of work," she said. "But it never really hits home until it happens to someone you know."

Sam nodded as the nurse returned. "Okay, Dr. Beckett," she said as she took the equipment out of her pocket and set it on the tray. "Dr. Benitez wants a blood sugar test."

Sam nodded as the nurse wiped his left index finger and pricked it with the needle, then put a little blood in a thin, tiny tube. After that, she put a Band-Aid on his finger and checked the IV.

"Anyway, like I said, how are you feeling?" Sammy Jo asked as she rested her hand on Sam's shoulder and the nurse put the tube in her pocket.

"Hot, tired, and I have a headache," Sam answered as the nurse picked up his wrist to check his pulse. "Let me put it this way: I haven't felt this bad since the leap where I was this pregnant teenage girl in 1955, and my mission was to keep her from putting her baby up for adoption. I was actually exhibiting pregnancy symptoms during the leap, and I actually got to feel real labor pains."

"Wow," Sammy Jo said as the nurse left the room. Then she laid a hand on Sam's forehead. "You do feel like you're burning up."

"Oh, boy," Sam moaned as he closed his eyes and turned his head to the side.

"You sure you're okay?" Sammy Jo asked as she brushed Sam's hair off his forehead. He nodded.

Just then, the nurse returned with a cup of pills. "Here's something for your headache, Dr. Beckett," she said, handing it to him. Sam took the pills, along with a sip of water from his cup, as the nurse left again, and returned a few minutes later to check his vital signs.

"He says he's not feeling good," Sammy Jo said as the nurse put the thermometer in Sam's mouth and wrapped the blood pressure cuff around his arm.

"Okay," the nurse said. After the thermometer beeped and the nurse removed it, she looked at the readout on the box and said, "No wonder, he's spiked a fever of 103."

Sam moaned. "It's okay, Dad," Sammy Jo said as she stroked his hair.

"Dad, I keep telling you that if you started eating right and quit smoking, you'd still be alive," Sam said to no one in particular.

"Shh," Sammy Jo said as she reached for his hand and started rubbing his knuckles. "You've just spiked a fever, but we'll bring it down as fast as we can."

The nurse grabbed a washcloth from the cabinet above the sink and ran some water on it. "We'll try this to see if it works," she said as she laid it across Sam's forehead.

"Okay," Sammy Jo agreed as Dr. Rice slipped into the room, pressed a button to print some of the EKG reading, removed the wires, and left as the nurse finished and Sam fell asleep again.

That's when Dr. Benitez came in. "Anything on the test results?" Sammy Jo asked.

Dr. Benitez shook his head. "We won't have any definite answers, unless he has another seizure," he answered. "In the meantime, I'd like to keep him overnight for observation. By the way, Dr. Pollan, I have to ask you: is there a family history of epilepsy or any other brain disease?"

Sammy Jo thought for a moment. "I never knew my great-grandparents," she said, "but I'm told that one of my great-grandmothers on my mother's side of the family may have had schizophrenia, which may have led to her killing her children, except my grandmother. Why?"

"It's possible that Dr. Beckett may have developed a condition similar to epilepsy from all that leaping."

"Oh, God," Sammy Jo murmured as she sank into the chair beside the bed.

"Now, take it easy," Dr. Benitez said. "We should know more as soon as possible."

Just then, there came a sound from the bed. "Dad?" Sammy Jo asked as she stood up, took his hand, and stroked his hair.

That's when the nurse returned to take Sam's temperature. "Fever's down," she announced as she finished.

"That's a good sign," Sammy Jo said as Dr. Benitez got out his penlight and examined Sam's eyes, then put his stethoscope on and did a brief examination.

"Hi," Sam yawned as Dr. Benitez finished. He opened his eyes and tried to sit up. "What's the good news?"

"Don't try to sit up, Dad. You'll wear yourself out," Sammy Jo said as she and the doctor grabbed his arms. Sam nodded as she pressed the button that raised the head of the bed.

"Whoa," Sam said softly as he put his hand to his head as the head of the bed raised.

"You feeling okay?" Sammy Jo asked.

"Just got dizzy for a moment," Sam answered. Then, turning to Dr. Benitez, he asked, "Anyway, like I said, what's the good news? Or is there any?"

Dr. Benitez sat down beside the bed, rested his arms on the bedrail, and looked Sam dead in the eye. "Dr. Beckett, we've just completed the tests," he began. "So far, your blood sugar and EKG are normal. We're still waiting on the results from the other tests. It's posible that you might have developed a condition similar to epilepsy from all that leaping. Until we have a definite answer, we'll have to classify it as idiopathic."

You should've seen the look on Sam's face when he heard that. "Okay. Now that we know what it is, what's the plan? Or is there one?"

"For now, we'd like you to stay overnight, in case there's another seizure. If it does reoccur, you'll be in good hands if you stay."

"What's his prognosis?" Sammy Jo asked. She hated having to interrupt the doctor, but she had to know. After all, she'd only found out a few hours ago that this man was her father—her _real_ father.

"If it's epilepsy, then it's treatable," the doctor answered. "There are some meds that we can try until we know for sure what it is, and what the proper treatment is. And as far as his prognosis, it is possible to manage this condition as long as you follow the regimen down to the letter. However, Dr. Beckett, I'm afraid this means you'll have to retire from leaping."

Upon hearing those words, Sam felt the weight of the world being lifted off his shoulders. Despite the condition of his health, he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt such relief. "I can live with that," he decided. "After all, not only have I proven my theories on time travel, but I think I am old enough to retire."

"I'm glad," Dr. Benitez said as he stood up. "Are you okay? Do you need to lie back down?"

"I think I'm okay," Sam reassured him. "If I start feeling dizzy again, I'll let you know."

"Fair enough."

At that moment, Al poked his head into the room. "How is he?" he asked.

"Well, he hasn't had another seizure, but he's been through all the tests, and we haven't found anything yet," Dr. Benitez answered.

"He's had a CT scan, blood sugar level, blood draw, MRI, and an EEG," Sammy Jo added. "He had a panic attack when he found out about the MRI, but as you know—you were there—Dr. Rice was able to help him out with hypnosis, and after I gave him sedat-ion and stayed with him throughout the procedure, he was able to handle it."

"How are you feeling now, Sam?" Al asked, resting a hand on the bedrail.

"Tired," Sam answered as he yawned, rubbed his eye, and shifted his position on the bed.

"I'll bet," Al said, patting his arm. "That was quite an ordeal."

"Are you feeling okay?" Sammy Jo asked as she brushed Sam's hair off his forehead and paused to feel it. "You look a little pale."

"'What is sickness to the body of a knight-errant? What matter wounds? For each time he falls, he shall rise again, and woe to the wicked!'" Sam quoted as he vaguely re-called his time as the understudy for Don Quixote in _Man of La Mancha,_ and Nicole, his former piano teaacher, was his Dulcinea.

"Dad?" Sammy Jo exclaimed in alarm as she took Sam's hand in both of hers and squeezed it. "Are you okay? Are you getting ready to have another seizure?"

Dr. Benitez got his flashlight out of his pocket and examined Sam's eyes. "It doesn't look like it, but he's in good hands," he said as he put the light away. "Look, it's pretty late, so why don't you all go back to your quarters and get some sleep? You'll all feel better in the morning. That's when I'm going to repeat the head CT and MRI, and compare it to today's results. Dr. Pollan, are you planning to give him another sedative?"

"Yes, unless he wants to be completely knocked out," Sammy Jo answered.

"I'll take the sedative," Sam said. "And if I should happen to fall asleep, it's no big deal."

"All right," Sammy Jo said.

"Okay, since you're having the sedative, nothing to eat or drink, and I'll let the nurse know," Dr. Benitez said. "We don't want you to get sick on us during the procedure."

"Right," Sammy Jo said as Sam nodded.

"Why don't all of you go back to your quarters now?" Dr. Benitez repeated. "It's late, and we probably won't have any answers until morning."

Sammy Jo was very reluctant to leave her father, but she was also exhausted. "Well—all right, but if he has another seizure or spikes another fever, call me," she said at last.

"We will," Dr. Benitez agreed.

One by one, they all left Sam's room as the nurse came in. Before Sammy Jo left, she brushed Sam's hair off his forehead.

"I'm cold now," Sam managed to say before the nurse put the thermometer in his mouth.

"All right," Sammy Jo said as the nurse was finishing. The two of them put one of the blankets back on him as Sam closed his eyes. Then she asked the nurse, "How's his temp?"

"Fever's staying down," the nurse reported.

"That's good," Sammy Jo said as she ran her hand down Sam's arm. "See you in the morning, Dad. Dad? You awake?"

Sammy Jo's only answer was a light snore.

Sam was having a very vivid dream. In it, he was back in Elk Ridge, Indiana, and he was fifteen years old. He'd had a crush on his piano teacher then, and it was the day she was leaving for New York.

"Nicole! Don't leave me!" Sam was saying as he was waking up. His eyes popped wide open, and he found himself back in his room. It was raining outside, and the sun was _just starting_ to come up.

"Dr. Beckett? Are you all right?" a nurse's voice asked as she same in and rested a hand on Sam's shoulder. "Dr. Beckett? It's Nurse Chatham. Can you talk to me?"

"Nicole?" Sam repeated as he grabbed the nurse's arm. "Teresa?"

"No, I'm not Nicole; I don't know who that is," Nurse Chatham answered. "And don't worry, Nurse Bruckner's on her way in. You'll probably see her in the prep area or recovery room."

"Nicole? Teresa?" Sam repeated as he tightened his grip on the nurse's arm.

"Shh," Nurse Chatham whispered, patting his shoulder. "It was just a dream, and it's all over now. And yes, I'll tell Nurse Bruckner you were asking for her."

"Oh, God, it was so real," Sam rambled. "I was dreaming about my piano teacher. I wish you could've met her. She ws terrific. I never got the chance to tell her how I felt about her. Then again, I was fifteen, she was twenty-five, and that wouldn't have been appropriate."

After Sam let go of the nurse, she left the room and returned a few minutes later to check his vital signs. After she'd finished, she said, "Do you want me to get Sammy Jo for you?"

Sam nodded. Dr. Benitez and Sammy Jo came in just as the nurse was leaving. "How is he?" Sammy Jo asked the nurse.

"He's just woken up from a nightmare," the nurse answered.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Sammy Jo asked as she stroked her father's hair.

"Well, I was back in Elk Ridge, Indiana, during my junior year of high school," Sam answered. "My piano teacher was getting ready to leave for New York, and I didn't want her to go. God, was I an idiot, or what?

"How are you feeling, otherwise?" Sammy Jo asked, gently running her hands down the sides of his face.

"Well," Sam said. "I'm still a little tired."

Dr. Benitez did a brief exam, then said, "Well, everything checks out. Dr. Beckett, unless you spike another fever or have another seizure, you should be able to return to your quarters either this afternoon or evening."

"Thank you," Sam said.

"Oh, one more thing before I go," Dr. Benitez said. "I'd like to do a brief neuro exam."

After Dr. Benitez finished, he said, "Dr. Beckett, the nurses will be here in a few minutes to take you for the CT scan, and after that will be the MRI."

"Thanks," Sam nodded.

"I need to get ready, too, so I'll meet you in the prep area," Sammy Jo said as she squeezed Sam's hand and patted his shoulder.

"Okay," Sam agreed.

"Nuse Chatham tells me that you were asking for Nurse Bruckner," Dr. Benitez said as he patted Sam's arm. "Don't worry, Dr. Beckett. You'll see her in the recovery room."

"Okay," Sam said.

After Sammy Jo and Dr. Benitez left, the nurses came to take Sam for the tests. Upon standing to move to the gurney, Sam let out a groan and started rubbing his left knee. "You okay?" one of the nurses asked.

"Yeah, I think so," Sam answered as the nurses helped him to the gurney, and he laid down. "I think it's just age catching up with me."

After the repeat CT scan, Sam was taken to the prep area, where Sammy Jo and the nurses moved the gurney into place. Then she looked down at Sam and asked, "Ready?" At the same time, a nurse on the other side wrapped a blood pressure cuff around his arm.

Sam nodded as the nurse inflated the cuff to check his blood pressure and Sammy Jo prepared the injection. Sam stared up at the ceiling while the nurse checked his vital signs, then he looked at Sammy Jo and said, "I love you."

Sammy Jo smiled behind her mask. She had waited many years to tell her father that, or to hear it from him. "I love you, too...Dad," she managed to say as she picked up Sam's arm to insert the needle into the IV.

"I love you," Sam repeated while the injection was being given, and he was growing sleepy, "like the stars love the sky, the sea loves the sand, the flowers love the bees..." Within seconds, he was fast asleep.

In fact, the last thing Sam heard before he fell asleep was Sammy Jo's voice saying, "Okay, he's falling asleep. Let's move."


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: This is the last chapter. In case you're wondering why Gooshie isn't in this story, it's a nod to Dennis Wolfberg's passing from melanoma in October of '94.

 **CHAPTER 4**

The next thing Sam heard was Teresa's voice saying, "Dr. Pollan? I think he's coming around."

Sammy Jo got out her penlight, rushed over to Sam's bedside, and shone the light in his eyes and mouth. "Dad? If you can hear me, open your eyes and squeeze my hand," she instructed as she put her light away and took his hand.

Sam squeezed his daughter's hand as his eyes fluttered. _What's going on?_ he wondered. _Why is she asking me to do this?_

"Welcome back, sleepyhead," Sammy Jo smiled as Sam's eyes fluttered again.

"Was I really asleep?" Sam asked sleepily.

Sammy Jo and the nurse laughed gently as the nurse wrapped the blood pressure cuff around Sam's arm. "You drifted off while I was sedating you for the MRI," Sammy Jo explained as she rubbed Sam's shoulder. "Do you know where you are?"

"Elk Ridge, Indiana, Thanksgiving weekend, 1969?" Sam guessed.

"No, you're in the recovery room of the hospital at Project Quantum Leap headquarters, and it's April 1, 2016," Sammy Jo answered as she rubbed his arm while Sam tred to go back to sleep. Then she said to the nurse, "He's still a little disoriented, so you might want to page Dr. Benitez."

"Yes, Dr. Pollan," the nurse answered.

"Dad? Open your eyes, Dad," Sammy Jo said as she gently shook Sam's shoulder.

Sam slowly opened his eyes, and after a moment, he could clearly see Sammy Jo standing over him and stroking his hair, and Teresa standing on the other side, rubbing his arm, as well as an oxygen mask covering half his face. "How are you feeling, Dad?" she asked.

"I haven't felt this bad since—since I had that electroshock treatment," Sam said as he coughed behind the mask.

"Oh," Sammy Jo said sympathetically as she removed the oxygen mask and wiped around Sam's mouth with a paper towel from the nearby sink while Sam let out another cough.

"Shh," Teresa whispered as she picked up Sam's wrist to check his pulse, then laid his arm across his chest. "Your procedure is over. You did just fine."

"Wh—what's going on?" Sam asked, looking first at Teresa, then at Sammy Jo.

"Did you know you had that second seizure as we were taking you out of the MRI machine?" Sammy Jo asked as she turned on her penlight and shone it in his eyes while Teresa mopped his forehead with the wet washcloth.

"Really?" Sam asked in surprise. "Damn, I must have been pretty out of it."

"Mm-hm."

 _That would also explain Sammy Jo's instructions to squeeze her hands as I was waking up,_ Sam thought.

"That's because you were under twilight anesthesia," Sammy Jo reminded him. Then she said to the nurse, "Pupils round and sluggish...Anyway, Dad, we brought you in here as quickly as we could. For some reason, it was a little harder to stop this seizure activity than the other one. In fact, it took three rounds of meds to control it. Dr. Benitez and I were talking just before you woke up, and he does believe that you do, in fact, have epilepsy, and just as we suspected, it was from all that leaping around you've done over the years. He's going to try some different meds to see which one has the best effect on you."

Sam coughed as he tried to get up. "No, don't try to get up, Dad," Sammy Jo said gently as she grabbed his shoulders and helped him lie back down. "You're still a little weak from that last seizure and groggy from the sedation, and we don't want you to fall. You've also had a pretty rough day, and need to rest. I also hate to disappoint you, but Dr. Benitez wants you to stay one more night."

"Should I page the doctor now?" Teresa asked.

"Yes," Sammy Jo answered. "It shouldn't take him too long to get here."

"Oh, boy," Sam sighed as he fell back against the pillow. In less than a minute, he was fast asleep again.

 _Poor Dad,_ Sammy Jo thought sadly as she brushed his hair off his forehead and laid the back of her hand against the spot as Dr. Benitez was being paged. _I'll bet you wish you'd never agreed to participate in this crazy cartoon in the first place._

Several minutes later, Sam suddenly opened his eyes and said, "Abigail?"

"Shh," Sammy Jo said soothingly as she rubbed his shoulder and arm. "My mother died of cancer about sixteen years ago."

"I—I saw her, just as clear as I'm seeing you now," Sam said as the nurse prepared to check his vital signs.

"It's all right," Sammy Jo said as the thermometer beeped. When she got a good look at the thermometer box and saw that it read 102, she thought, _Well, no wonder he was dreaming about Mom. Wonder what's in that sedative to cause this complication?_

"Don't leave me," Sam begged as he tightened his grip on his daughter's arm.

"It's okay, Dad. I'm not going anywhere," Sammy Jo reassured him as Dr. Rice entered the room and unhooked the EKG. After a brief exam, Sam started shivering as he released Sammy Jo's arm, and the two women covered him with a blanket.

Just then, Dr. Benitez came in as the nurse was wiping Sam's hands and face with a wet washcloth. "How's he doing?" he asked, turning on his penlight and examining Sam's eyes as the nurse left.

"Well, he's just spiked another fever, and he was also dreaming about my mother, who's been dead for about sixteen years," Sammy Jo answered.

Just then, the nurse returned to take Sam's temperature as Dr. Benitez did a neuro exam. "Fever's gone," she said.

"And his neurological functions are intact," Dr. Benitez added. "Let's get him back to his room."

When they returned to Sam's room and put him to bed, Dr. Benitez continued, "I want to start a regimen of anti-seizure meds, and we'll try different ones until we find the one that words the best for him, and doesn't make him sick, drowsy, dizzy, or anything like that."

"Just as long as it'll help him," Sammy Jo said, taking her father's hand and rubbing his back.

"Dr. Pollan, you have my word that your father's in good hands," Dr. Benitez said. "And like I said before, his condition is manageable. There's no reason why he shouldn't live as normal a life as possible. However, there's an 8% chance that no meds will work, and he'd need surgery to stop his seizures, but that shouldn't happen."

"So, when do we start?" Sam asked.

"Well, I'll have the nurse get one now, then we'll try it to see what kind of effect it has on you," Dr. Benitez answered. "If it's not the right one, we'll keep switching out the meds every few hours until we find it."

Sam nodded as Dr. Benitez left the room. A few minutes later, the nurse returned with a cup of pills. "There's two in there," she told him. "Take them _very carefully,_ and if you start to feel sick or dizzy, I want you to page me or Dr. Benitez immediately."

"Right," Sam agreed as he took one of the pills and very tentatively popped it in his mouth. _If this doesn't work, I'm really going to be pissed,_ he thought as he took a sip of water.

"Now, this may take a few minutes to take effect," the nurse pointed out. "And like Dr. Benitez said, this is just so we can tell which medication is right for you."

"Mm-hm," Sam agreed as he took the other pill.

"Call me if he starts feeling sick or dizzy," the nurse said before she left.

"Right," Sammy Jo said.

"How are you feeling, Dr. Beckett?" Dr. Benitez asked a few minutes later as he re-turned.

"It's too soon to tell," Sammy Jo answered. "The real test will be when we get him out of bed to move around."

Dr. Benitez nodded as he put on his stethoscope and prepared to examine Sam. After he finished, Sam said, "I need to go to the bathroom."

"I'll let the nurse know," Dr. Benitez said as he pressed the call butoon. A few minutes later, the nurse came in.

"I need to go to the bathroom," Sam told her.

"All right," the nurse said as she lowered the bedrail. Once Sam was on his feet, she asked, "How are you feeling?"

"Better," Sam answered. He made it to the bathroom, and had just come out when he started wobbling back and forth.

"Dad?" Sammy Jo exclaimed in alarm. "Dad, what's wrong?"

Sam started to fall, but Sammy Jo and the nurse caught him by the arms and held him up. "Dr. Beckett?" the nurse asked as Sammy Jo tightened her grip on his arm.

"I'm okay," Sam answered as he regained his balance and loosened his grip on the nurse's arm. "I think those pills just made me dizzy, like Dr. Benitez warned they might."

The two women helped Sam back into bed, then the nurse said, "We'll try another med at dinner time to see how that one works."

"Okay," Sam agreed before he fell asleep again.

Sammy Jo held her father's hand until he fell asleep, then she went out into the hall for a snack, where she ran into Dr. Beeks. "How is he?" the doctor asked.

"Well," Sammy Jo said. "My father would spike a fever after waking up from sedation, and it's happened both yesterday and today. In addition to that, he had a panic attack before yesterday's MRI, but Dr. Rice was able to calm him down—for the most part—by using hypnosis. He also had another seizure as we were taking him out of the MRI machine after today's repeat scan. He's already tried one med that made him dizzy. We'll try another one at dinner time to see how that one works."

"Good luck," Dr. Beeks said as she started down the hall.

"Thanks," Sammy Jo called after her as she got a bag of microwave popcorn out of the machine. After buying a can of Pepsi, she went into the lounge to pop the bag of pop-corn and returned to Sam's room as he was starting to wake up.

"How are you feeling, Dad?" Sammy Jo asked, setting the snack on the tray, taking his hand, and running her other hand down his cheek. "Well, you don't have a fever, so that's good. Are you still feeling a little dizzy?"

"No, not really," Sam answered as Sammy Jo released his hand. "I think it's passed. Hey, can I have some of that?"

"Sure," Sammy Jo answered as she got a cup out of the little cup holder beside the sink while Sam opened the bag of popcorn. Sammy Jo poured half the can of Pepsi into the cup and put it on the tray, then she got out a paper towel and helped her father shake some popcorn out onto it.

"Now, all I need is a dry or light beer, and I'm all set," Sam joked.

As the two of them started eating, Dr. Beeks poked her head in the doorway. "Hey, Dr. Beckett," she said. "How's it going?"

"Well, I was feeling dizzy earlier, but I think it's passed," Sam answered as he took a sip of Pepsi. "And I think my fever's gone, too."

"Good," Dr. Beeks said. "And good luck finding a med that will work for you."

"Thanks," Sam said, popping the last bite of popcorn in his mouth and handing the empty cup and paper towel to Sammy Jo as Dr. Beeks left.

After Sammy Jo threw their trash away, she said, "Well, I hope I didn't spoil your dinner. The nurse should be here soon with your meal, and another med for you to try."

"It's okay," Sam said. "Actually, I think that helped my appetite."

The nurse came in, checked Sam's vital signs, and left again, only to return a few minutes later with Sam's dinner tray. "There's only one this time," she said, pointing out the cup. "Now, I want you to take the pill first, in case it makes you sick to your stomach, and if that happens, let me know."

Sam nodded as he reached for the pill, popped it in his mouth, and took a sip of his drink. He managed a few bites before aying, "Nurse? I think it's happening."

The nurse grabbed an emesis basin from under the sink and handed it to Sam, who just coughed into it, but nothing came up. "Is it staying down?" she asked.

Sam paused a few seconds before answering. "Wait a second—yeah, I think it is."

"Just remember not to eat too much too soon."

"I know," Sam said as he handed the basin back to the nurse and she put it on the counter. "Anyway, like I said, I think it might be working."

"I think this is the right one, too, but we'll try another one at bedtime, just to be sure."

After the nurse left, Sammy Jo said, "Wait, Dad, I'll be right back."

Sammy Jo left the room, and returned a few minutes later with two girls who looked about seventeen and fourteen and a boy who looked about sixteen. The older of the two girls had her hair pulled back into a ponytail, and the other had hers in a French braid. All three were dressed similarly to their mother, and had features similar to hers, but the boy had the closest resemblance to Sammy Jo.

"Hi, there," Sam smiled as he raised the head of the bed and reached for the young-er girl's hand.

"Mom?" she asked apprehensively.

"It's okay, sweetie," Sammy Jo reassured her. "He's a good guy."

"Okay," her daughter said.

"These are the kids I was telling you about," Sammy Jo explained. "Laura just turned seventeen in January, and like I said, she'll be majoring in astrogeophysics at USC next year, and has inherited my IQ of 194. She's currently a post-secondary student. Will turned sixteen last month, and is considering an early entrance to college, where he'll be doing a two-year nursing program at the community college, building on the courses he's taking now, along with his status as a post-secondary student, and has an IQ of 190. And Abigail—or Abby, as we call her—turned fourteen this past December and is finishing her sophomore year of high school, but will be a post-secondary student next year, as well as taking some biology courses, and has an IQ of 192. Kids, I never thought I'd hear my-self say this, but this man in the bed is your grandfather, and he's my real father that I never knew existed until yesterday."

"You're so beautiful," Sam said as he released Abby's hand and ran his hand over her left cheek. Abby smiled and rested a hand on his shoulder.

"Thank you," Laura said as she leaned over, took his hand, and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

"Um, what do we call you?" Will asked as he sat on the bed.

"How about 'Grandfather'?" Sam suggested as Laura released his hand. "Or maybe 'Grandpa', 'Gramps', 'Pop', whatever you feel comfortable with."

"Sure, no problem—Grandpa," Abby smiled, patting his shoulder as she joined her brother on the bed, kissed Sam's cheek, and threw her arms around his neck. Donna slipped into the room and stood off to the side.

And Sam smiled right back as he hugged his youngest granddaughter. He was so happy, he forgot about telling off Dr. Beeks. As Sam settled back on the bed and fell asleep, Will and Abby got up. Sam couldn't help feeling happy being surrounded by his daughter and grandchildren, and he knew that going through all the leaping, seizures, and everything else was all worth it. And what better way to spend his retirement years?

 **THE END**


End file.
